


This Time Around (the Sun)

by apple_pi



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Community: slashababy, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-25
Updated: 2005-12-25
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7632121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apple_pi/pseuds/apple_pi





	This Time Around (the Sun)

“Trust Peter.”

“Trust Peter to—” _wheeze_ — “what?”

“Give me a hand, would you, young Sean? ...Trust Peter to choose a place that involved sixty steps, after a two-hour drive to get here.”

“Yeah, but—look, John.”

“Look at what?”

“Turn around and _look_.”

“...Ah. Well. Yes. There is that.”

“That’s why we trust Pete.”

“So we do. However, I could do with a bit more decent alcohol and a bit less breathtaking view, at the moment.”

“Elf! Get up here and carry John’s bag! ... Wouldn’t mind a beer myself.”

~*~

Billy heaves the strap of his duffle over one shoulder, gets a firmer grip on his guitar case with the other hand. Doesn’t look at the steps, or at the brightly lit chalet atop them. Doesn’t turn to admire the dusky sweep of scenery behind him. Looks straight ahead and starts climbing.

John and Seanwise are ahead of him; Dom and Elijah, too. Orlando goes bounding past, taking the steps two at a time in response to Sean’s shout, and Billy smiles to himself, but it’s a thin smile, and he keeps his head down and climbs.

~*~

“God, the millennium!”

“Don’t let Sean hear you say that, Lij.”

“Oh, him. Nobody’s gonna care next year like they do this year, Dom. This is it.”

“I agree, mate.”

“I mean, was the song ‘tonight we’re gonna party like it’s two-thousand’?”

“No it was not.”

“I rest my point. Hey, wait up!”

“You don’t rest a point, you rest a case—”

“Sean! Orli!”

~*~

Dom sighs and stops, catching his breath and waiting for Billy to come up with him. He falls easily into step beside him. “Want me to carry your guitar?”

“No, thank you.” 

They climb beside one another. “Big plans for tonight, Bills? Gonna woo us all with the guitar, welcome the new millennium with a tune?”

Billy’s smile is a little easier, but his words aren’t precisely cheerful. “I’ll probably just find a quiet corner, wait for the stroke of twelve, escape to my room.”

“Billy!” Dom is horror-stricken. “You can’t! That’s—that’s blasphemy!”

Billy just keeps smiling, keeps climbing. “I don’t have good luck with New Year’s Eves.”

Dom tucks one arm through Billy’s. “Ah, but you’ve never had a New Year’s Eve with me, now, have you?” His bristly hair seems to crackle with energy, and his grin is as crooked, as wild, as mad as it has ever been.

~*~

“Someone get Elijah away from that machine.”

“He promised he’d stop soon, Christopher. I understand David will take his turn after that.”

“Heaven help us.”

“I find that this whiskey creates a decent illusion of heaven.”

“Is that so? ... Well, pass it over, Ian. Be a gentleman.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“You are. And now tell me about that new Pinter play. Who do you say he’s thinking of for the leads?”

~*~

Dom’s worried about Billy. They’re sharing a room, and Dom doesn’t want to fuck things up, doesn’t want to get on Billy’s nerves. Doesn’t know if he _could_ get on Billy’s nerves, since the one person in the entire world he seems least able to irritate is Billy, who fits him as well as... well. As well as perfection, as mates go. But why start irritating him now, right? And Bill seems melancholy, almost—not in the mood for this extravaganza. Certainly not in the mood to stay up all night and greet the dawn, which is what Dom wants to do—after all, it’s summer in New Zealand (even if it’s cold outside, here in the mountains), and the sun sets at 8:57 p.m. tonight, and rises tomorrow at 5:51 a.m. Dom looked it up. That’s a _short_ night, if you’re picking one to stay up through—Dom’s managed much longer nights than that.

Dom needs to cheer Billy up. Hell, Dom _wants_ to cheer Billy up. If the earth is going to make this circle into a whole new year, new decade, new century, new millennia, then by God Dom’s going to enjoy it, and he’s going to enjoy it with Billy Boyd, his best friend in the entire world.

~*~

“It’s not the new millennium, Orlando.”

“Listen, I understand what you’re saying, I really do. I just think it’s total shit, and no one is going to give a fuck when we hit 2001. So _this_ is the beginning of the new millennium.”

“That’s what _I’ve_ been saying!”

“Shut up, Lij. Okay, but it’s _not_. The new millennium starts in the year _one_ , not at _zero_. Like, the eighteen-hundreds actually began in 1801, the nineteen-hundreds actually began in 1901—”

“Sean. Listen. The thing is, no one cares.”

“Obviously. It just irritates me that everyone keeps saying ‘new millennium, new millennium’ when it’s _not_.”

~*~

Billy comes out onto the patio to get away from the noise. There are a few smokers out here, but mostly the wide stone expanse is empty. He walks to one side to be by himself; leans on the rail and stares out over the valley. Mountains rear up on the other side, and everything is bathed in a starlit glow. He gazes for a long time. The sky is black black black, spangled with more and different stars than he ever saw in Glasgow, for certain. His breath steams a little and the iron of the rail stings his palms, but he stands there long enough that the smokers retreat, leaving him alone with the yellow light behind him and the dusty white light of the Milky Way before.

He feels Dom’s presence before he hears him, hears him before he actually _feels_ him, warm breath against his neck and warm, warm, all down his back and around his sides. Dom has slid his arms around Billy’s waist and pressed himself to his back. “Christ, Billy, it’s cold out here. Aren’t you cold?”

The warmth suddenly makes Billy aware that yes, he is cold, and he shivers and pulls his hands from the rail, folding them across his chest. Dom moves in response, loosens his arms and then retightens them, higher up, enclosing Billy in a comfortable embrace from behind. “It is cold. Thank you,” Billy says.

Dom’s chin is digging into his shoulder as he peers at the view and his voice is right in Billy’s ear, sending warm tendrils of air across his cheek. “Gorgeous.” His breath is faintly sweet-sour, alcohol and sugar mingled.

“Mmm.” It is.

“Billy.”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you like New Year’s Eve?”

Billy shivers again, but Dom just tightens his embrace and rocks him a little. It feels good, and Billy doesn’t really want to shrug him off. So he answers. “No reason, really. I’ve just... never had good luck with them, I s’pose.”

“Like what.” They sway slightly. The noise of the party is a steady thrum behind them, but the vast silence of the mountains almost overwhelms it.

“Like. Hm. Let’s see. Four years ago and five years ago I was working New Year’s—in a band, once, and helping a caterer, once. So, just no fun.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Three years ago I was at a party and a friend started hitting on me. Totally freaked me out. And also pretty much pissed off the person I was dating at the time.”

“That sounds like lots of fun.” Dom’s voice is dry and amused.

Billy snorts. “It was. I think my favorite part was having my keys held out of my reach by a pissed friend who wanted to fuck me, while my date glared at me from the car.”

Dom snickered, a warm gust past Billy’s ear. “And you were how old?”

“Twenty-eight.” Billy smiles sheepishly. “Makes me wonder if third form ever really ends.”

“Long as I can still pass notes in history.” Dom rubs his nose against Billy’s jumper briefly and then plants his chin back on his shoulder. “What about two years ago and last year?”

“Did you just wipe y’r nose on my shoulder, Dominic?”

“No!” Dom tightens his arms until Billy settles again. “Just an itch, not a runny nose. I promise. Now tell. You have to finish the story.”

“So it’s a story, now, hm? Awreet. Two years ago... Hm. Just a crappy year. I believe I got so incredibly trollied that I spent the stroke of twelve puking behind the club.”

“Well, at least it was a classic.”

“I’ve always been a traditional sort of bloke.”

“Mm-hmm.” Dom lays his head sideways, so that his cheek is against Billy’s neck, his lips almost-but-not-quite against the back of Billy’s ear. Billy tries not to squirm; it’s a ticklish region. “And then last year?”

“Last year I stayed home, hiding my head under the covers.”

“Well.” They stare into the gulfs of air, thinking their separate thoughts. “I do see what the problem was before.”

“Do you? Share, please.”

“I already told you. No Dom.”

“No Dom.” Billy’s amused, and warm, but still he feels that thread of melancholy tugging at him. He’s distracted from his determination to be alone and aloof and vaguely interested, but not distracted enough. “Is that right?” He’s not sure whether he wants to be distracted from it, truth to tell; he wonders just what it would take to change his mind.

“Billy, Billy, Billy.” Dom rocks him again, back and forth. “Of course. I’m the best thing that ever happened to your New Year’s Eves.”

Billy snorts slightly. “’Zat so.”

“Absolutely.”

The sky is deep and inky and endless, and the enormous house behind them—hotel, really, though the whole thing belongs to their group for tonight—is tiny, miniscule, a blurry smear of orange light with less significance than the hard stars above or the cold stirring of the wind from peak to peak.

Billy sighs after a while. “Thanks, Dom.”

Dom makes an _mmm_ sound. “Thanks, but—?”

Billy smiles. Dom knows him well. How odd to think that they’ve only been friends for a few months. “Thanks, but, I’m getting cold, and I think I’ll go up to our room and maybe be quiet and drink a glass of champagne when the clock strikes, and when you come in don’t wake me?” He says it nicely, though.

“Bill.” Dom sings it so sweetly into his ear, and Billy’s awareness of the night, of the air, of Dom, changes and slips abruptly, hovers just at the edge of something else. “Don’t do that.” Dom turns his head a fraction more, presses his cold, dry lips briefly to the sensitive spot just behind Billy’s ear. “Or at least let me come be quiet with you.”

“You don’t mean that, my Dommie.” Billy’s stomach lurches slightly and he closes his eyes. The edge of the balcony seems suddenly like one of those high places he doesn’t like, and he shivers again.

“I mean it completely. Would Merry leave his Pippin alone on New Year’s Eve?”

“Litheday.”

“Litheday’s Eve.” Dom pulls away and Billy’s whole back feels cold, much colder than it rightfully should. But Dom isn’t really leaving, just sliding around so now he’s pressed against Billy’s left side, his arm slung over Billy’s shoulders. “Merry wouldn’t leave his Pippin alone, and I won’t leave my Billy.”

It is the most natural thing in the world to slip his own arm round Dom’s skinny waist. It feels weird without the padding of cloak, jacket, weskit, shirt, fat-suit. Just a thin silk shirt and warm skin beneath it. “Aren’t you cold?”

Dom shivers and crowds him. “Yeah, so let’s go in, huh?”

“Yeah.” Billy turns to go. “You sure you want to come up with me? We could play cards or something, but I’m not really feeling very... noisy.”

“S’okay.” Dom smiles at him, and Billy’s belly tightens for a second, right before he feels himself lean forward to kiss Dom’s lips.

~*~

“New Year’s resolutions, Liv?”

“God, no. Terrible idea.”

“Oh, c’mon.”

“Fine. ... Oh jeez, I can’t think of any, Miranda... um, stop staring at all these beautiful boys all day?”

“Probably a wise idea.” 

...

“Well, there goes that one.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

~*~

Billy’s lips are cold and dry, but his breath is warm and moist; Dom’s lips part slightly, but before he can pursue the pulse of warmth, Billy’s mouth is gone, and that slight warmth can’t really account for the rush of heat that starts in Dom’s belly and races outward to all his limbs at once.

Billy pulls back and peers at Dom for a moment. “Erm. Sorry?”

Dom isn’t sorry. He’s—what is he? Curious and flustered, the calm and quiet of the mountains and space gone, vaporised. Replaced by something just as elemental, it feels like. So he doesn’t answer, just grabs Billy’s biceps and lunges at him.

Little too fast, maybe, because his mouth careens right across Billy’s before he can slow it and he has to recentre himself—he gasps a little, stutter of embarrassment and irritation that he didn’t get it right—and then, there: square on, mouth against mouth and Dom tilts his head just right, parts his lips in time to meet Billy’s surprised breath, in time to chase it, the warmth.

Dom’s never been worth a fuck at subtlety, and he isn’t now, either—he kisses like a curious young man. Curious: Questing, every curve of tendon, muscle, bone in his body a question mark, from the tiny crease between his brows to the smooth skin of his tightly closed eyelids to the line of his back, bent forward, pressing Billy back against the rail. Young: Too fast, too messy, unthinking, inexperienced. Man: Pursuing rather than being pursued—hot, quick, seeking.

~*~

“You’re completely full of shit.”

“I swear. I _swear_. Oh, c’mon. There must be marshmallows around here somewhere.”

“And a microwave?”

“Christ, Viggo, have a little faith. I’m sure they have one in the kitchens. And then I’ll prove it—they really do blow up like balloons in the microwave.”

“If you’re wrong you have to shine my boots.”

“Not touching your boots, filthy fucking things. And I’m not wrong, I’ve done it a thousand times.”

“Fine, Bean. Prove it.”

“If I’m right, Boromir lives and Aragorn only gets the northern kingdom.”

“Deal.”

~*~

Billy’s hands rise to cup Dom’s elbows almost automatically, he sinks back in the face of this surge of energy and temperature and he wants to laugh, wants to flee, wants to retreat back into the distance and gentle melancholy of the moment before he pressed his mouth impulsively to Dom’s. But there’s no distraction from this, this is too much.

Dom’s mouth is fresh and hot and sweet, and he’s pressing Billy back until the cold iron of the rail scorches an icy burn across his back. Dom’s tongue is sliding into Billy’s mouth, delicate and absurdly confident at one and the same time, like Dom himself, this is what, what is it, insanity—Billy breathes quickly through his nose, and he wants Dom to push him back harder, wants Dom to push his whole body against Billy’s. Wants—a _lot_ —to feel Dom’s hips push against his own.

“God, stop, stop, stop it Dom—” Billy breaks the seal of their mouths with an effort, twists his head away so that Dom’s seeking mouth is suddenly left alone, pitiful, red, open, and Dom’s eyes pop open, too. He’s looking at Billy like he’s _lunch_ , Jesus Christ. What the fuck—? Gotta slow down, and then Billy says that aloud: “Gotta slow down—Jesus. Slow—slow down.” He’s breathing hard and not cold anymore.

“I don’t want to slow down.” Dom has a look—wicked and very slightly predatory—and Billy has to restrain himself. He wants nothing more than to grab Dom, clutch him tight and kiss him for the next three hours, to hell with the party, the holiday, everything and everyone else. But Dom is his best friend and this might be stupid, some alcoholic byproduct of proximity and friendship and horniness.

So Billy restrains himself, though he can’t make his hands let go of Dom’s arms, quite. “If you don’t slow down—” He can’t think how to finish the sentence.

“C’mon,” Dom says suddenly. “We were going to go inside, up to our room.” He turns, towing Billy by the hand, and there’s a blur of movement and sound: the glass doors sliding open, the yellow glow of the party and rush and roar of music and voices, laughter and notes sliding into and around one another. Dom never lets go of Billy, though Billy’s fingers have lost their grip on Dom’s sleeve.

“Where you going?”

Elijah and Orlando, popping up out of nowhere.

Dom never stops. “Upstairs to shag,” he says, and Billy rolls his eyes and grins, though it feels false, because really his knees just tried to give way. Only momentum keeps him upright as Elijah makes a scoffing noise and Orlando purses his lips, the expression lost as Dom sweeps past, Billy stumbling behind and Billy wouldn’t recognise melancholy if it walked up and shook his hand right this minute, but that doesn’t mean he won’t later. He knows that, knows it too well, but he follows Dom anyway.

A corridor, then, and stairs—broad and curving, the banister satiny and slick under Billy’s sweaty palm. Another hallway, where Dom digs in one pocket for the key. No plastic card here. It’s a real key, steel, like the ones that locked the bedrooms in Billy’s little flat in Glasgow, and Dom fumbles for a moment before the door opens. Billy’s pulled inside so fast his head rocks back and the door closes behind him and Dom presses against him and the door is cool and hard against his back and skull and Dom isn’t kissing him but clinging to him, arms snaking around him, hips snugged to Billy’s (fuck!) hips, face shoved tight into Billy’s neck. Dom shakes silently. Laughter? Nerves? What is it?

Billy wants—what?

This, he decides, and he lifts his hands and arms to hold Dom.

“Dom?”

“Yeah.” Dom just stands there—leans there—still trembling. 

“Okay there?”

“Terrified.” Maybe so, but his voice is calm, and Billy relaxes a fraction, sliding his hands up and down Dom’s silk-clad back. 

“Yeah, because I’m such a scary bloke,” Billy murmurs, unable to keep a hint of laughter from his voice.

“I want too much,” Dom says into Billy’s neck. “I’m a coward.” His hands flex and fist in the back of Billy’s shirt, compulsive, frightened.

This time Billy laughs outright, nerves and disbelief. “You aren’t a coward, my Merry. My Dommie. And do you even know what you want?” He closes his eyes in pain, because he’s sure Dom doesn’t know. Can’t.

Dom lifts his head and stares right at Billy. “I want you. I’ve wanted you for _ever_ ,” he says, and the oxygen in the room vanishes, Billy’s left with empty lungs, gasping.

Dom kisses him again, right then, sweet and hard and curious and desperate all at once, and it’s always overwhelming with Dom, isn’t it? Everything, always. _Always_ , Billy thinks, dazed.

Their tongues touch, tentative at first and then bolder—Dom latches onto Billy, hands curled in his jumper, and Billy’s fingers slide over silk, down and then up to thread into Dom’s hair. This wins him a noise—a soft moan into Billy’s mouth, and Billy pushes his fingertips against Dom’s scalp and laughs for the joy of it as Dom’s head falls back, giving his neck, throat, shoulders to Billy, who kisses, licks, sucks at the warm skin, clean with just a hint of salt. Dom smells of the lemony soap he uses, and his hair smells so _clean_ —Billy presses his nose behind Dom’s ear and inhales.

“Billy,” Dom says. There’s nothing left in his voice but desire. “Please—Billy—” and he fumbles at the hem of Billy’s jumper. “Fuck—” This effort is abandoned and Dom has Billy’s khaki trousers unbuttoned: unzipped: pushed down in seconds. “Let me see,” Dom says.

Billy goes still, but he nods and he can’t stop himself smiling. That Dom should—that Dom wants—he can’t finish the thought, it’s too new. 

Dom leans against Billy, head turned down, looking between them. He cautiously places one hand right onto the front of Billy’s boxers, wrapping his fingers around the erection straining against silk. “Oh my God.”

“Dom,” Billy says, and now it’s his voice that cracks. They both grin but a minute later the smiles fade and Billy’s head falls back against the door as Dom begins squeezing, pulling, his fingers and the warm silky material creating friction. Billy pushes forward into Dom’s hand, helpless, clinging to his arms, breathing quickly. “Oh Jesus, that feels good,” he murmurs.

“Want you so bad,” Dom replies. He turns his head, presses his lips to Billy’s neck. “Think I might die if I don’t get you.”

“How—how do you want me?” Billy asks, and then moans as Dom moves his hand up and then back down, inside Billy’s pants, gripping warm skin now.

“Like this, or over me, or under me—everywhere. Every way,” Dom says, moving his hand fast and sure. “Wanna make you come in my hand, in my mouth,” he blushes, cheeks and neck and ears stained feverish red, “want you to come inside me, Bill.”

“Oh my God,” Billy gasps, eyes closing as his head thuds against the wooden door again. “Yes, please.”

“Is this good?” 

“You’ll find out in about—ohhh, fuck—one minute.” Billy’s hips are juddering into Dom’s hand; he feels sweat prickling out on the back of his neck and his forehead.

“Are you close?” Dom asks, slowing.

“I—ahhh—God. Yes. No, wait,” Billy forces himself to stop, drops one hand to Dom’s forearm to stop his relentless stroking. “I want you to come, too, wanna feel that. Maybe—” his gaze sharpens, and Dom stares— “maybe taste that.”

Dom groans. “Bed?”

“Yeah.” Billy kicks off his trousers, pulls his jumper over his head and helps Dom take his clothes off—no pants, and Billy drops suddenly to his knees, overcome with greed at Dom’s nakedness, all that skin; he leans forward and takes Dom into his mouth as fast and as far as he can.

The scent of arousal and the taste of it are overwhelming here, Dom’s cock thick in Billy’s mouth and one hand grabbing at Billy’s hair. “What the fuck,” Dom gasps, and Billy’s off-balance for an instant as Dom leans forward over him, bracing himself against the door behind Billy. Billy doesn’t answer— _not polite to talk with your mouth full_ he thinks and can’t laugh—but he adjusts to the new angle and bobs his head up and down, fast and fierce on Dom, the sudden taste of pre-come smeared across his tongue as he stops, pulls off.

“Nopleasefuckwhy?” Dom nearly shrieks.

“Bed,” Billy reminds him, breathing hard, wiping one hand across his mouth.

~*~

“Where’d Billy and Dom go?”

“I don’t know. I saw Billy go outside a while ago, haven’t seen or heard from Dom in a bit.”

“Billy and Dom? I passed them on the stairs when I was coming back down.”

“Oh Christ, how did they look?”

“...Drunk.”

“Jesus. I knew I should have taken out insurance for this party.”

“Calm down, Pete. I’m sure they’re just going to stuff wet toilet paper into Elijah’s lock or something.”

“Fran!”

“What?”

“...Well. You’re probably right.”

“I certainly am. Get me a drink, Philippa?”

“...Me, too, please.”

~*~

Dom feels the shivers begin again when he and Billy lie facing one another; he closes his eyes, frightened and embarrassed.

Billy’s hand on his face, one thumb rubbing across his cheekbone. “Alright there?”

“...Yeah.” Dom clenches his face tight, relaxes it again. Finally opens his eyes, and Billy is smiling, smiling at him so full and sweet, his whole face bright with it. Dom’s heart lurches and his mouth opens and out it pops: “Love you so much.”

Billy doesn’t laugh, or close down—his eyes don’t flicker and neither does his smile. “Yeah. You, too.” His thumb moves lower, traces lightly over Dom’s mouth. “Want you, too.”

“Yeah.” Dom breathes it, able to smile again, the shivers turning into trembling but this time it’s not fear but something else—just _this_ , it’s too big to hold in his body. His smile stretches into a grin, and he rolls over onto Billy, pressing him down, bouncing slightly just to giggle with it, glee and love and lust coiling up his spine and down it. He kisses Billy again, messily—God, Billy-lips, Billy-tongue and teeth and Billy-hands on his back, Billy-breath whuffing out in a grunting laugh as Dom shoves down again, smashes him into the duvet and snickers into his mouth.

“Oof—fuck, Dominic, you have to let me live if we’re going to do this.” Billy pinches Dom’s bottom, tugs at his lower lip with sharp, careful teeth.

“We are going to do this,” Dom says. Then he lifts his head and shouts it: “I’m going to fuck Billy Boyd!”

Billy blushes red as a rose and this time he slaps Dom’s arse, hard: a stinging, noisy slap. “Shut it, hobbit,” he orders. His lips twitch and just as Dom leans down to kiss him, chortling with glee, the world goes topsy-turvy and Dom finds himself beneath Billy, looking up at that wicked pixie face and tousled hair. “Anyway, what if I want to fuck you?”

Dom’s eyes nearly roll back in his head—he closes them, anyway, and lets his neck relax so his head sinks into the mattress. “Okay.”

Billy kisses Dom’s neck, heated, damp, open-mouthed kisses. “Have you ever...?” Billy’s mouth is warm and distracting, and it takes a minute for Dom to figure out what he’s saying.

“No.” Dom gasps as Billy sucks gently on the column of his throat; the younger man cranes his head back, feels dizzy as the blood rushing through him and pools between his legs. He rolls his hips without thinking about it. “But I want to—want you to.”

“I want to,” Billy says into his skin. “Want to so bad.” His voice is lower than Dom’s ever heard it, barely there at all—hoarse with desire.

“Do we—do you have any—” Dom blushes but he knows he won’t stop now, won’t stop until he feels Billy inside his body. He opens his eyes.

“There’s—yeah.” Billy sits up; his eyes are bright, face and chest flushed. “We’ll have to go slow.”

“No shit,” Dom replies, a grin quirking his lips. “And—” he clears his throat. “Just so you know. I’m, uh, I’m clean. I don’t—I haven’t—since my last check-up, you know, when we all had to...”

Billy raises one eyebrow, smiling. “What about that girl last week?”

Dom shakes his head. “No, nothing—I—well. A blow job.” He can’t help the slight smugness. “But that’s all.”

Billy laughs and leans down to kiss him again. “Me, too. Which is good, because I don’t have any condoms.” He sits back up, runs his hands through his hair, putting it more on-end than ever. Dom chokes back a laugh. “And I don’t fancy trying to find a chemist.”

“In the middle of nowhere on New Year’s Eve,” Dom finishes for him. “Yeah.” His eyes roam the room. “What do you... uh—you said you had something...?”

Billy hops off the bed and disappears into the bathroom. “I have this lotion—and no laughing,” he orders, “my skin gets all dry and it itches so I have this stuff—” He reappears, a bottle in one hand, staring at Dom, daring him to laugh.

“Listen, mate, as long as it doesn’t smell like rose petals you’re off the hook with me,” Dom says, holding his hands up in placation. God, Billy—naked, naked and right in front of Dom. He looks so good, slim and compact, muscular arms and legs, flat belly and the lovely fur across the top of his chest—nipple-to-nipple and Dom wants to tug at it with his teeth, then move on to those nipples, pale pink nubbins that they are. Billy’s cock is lovely, too, flushed and hard, well-proportioned—eager, certainly, bobbing in front as Billy saunters back to the bed with the bottle of lotion in one hand.

“No rose petals, I’m afraid.” Billy leaps onto the bed beside Dom, leans down to lick his chest as Dom shivers happily again. “Unscented. Very manly.”

“Said the man to the other man he was about to bugger,” Dom quipped, grinning, practically wriggling with nerves and terror and delight.

~*~

“Those shoes are stunning, Cate.”

“Thank you. They’re murder on my feet, though.”

“I don’t suppose you’d care to dance, then.”

“Why Ian, you charmer, how could I resist?”

“It’s useless to try, my dear. And as there’s finally something decent playing...”

“Mmm. Well, I must say I enjoyed the Stone Roses, but Billie Holiday is infinitely better suited to dancing.”

“Amen, my dear.”

~*~

“What do we—what do I do?” Dom’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his fingers plucking at the bedspread. Billy considers him for a moment and then lies atop him, kissing his lips, chin, jaw, lips, cheeks, nose, eyelids.

“Just relax, yeah?” 

“Oh—yeah...” Dom warms beneath him, his legs shifting unconsciously so Billy lies cradled between his thighs, their erections laid beside each other.

Billy moves lower, kissing Dom’s neck again—so beautiful, and what is more beautiful is how Dom seeks it, how he tips his head back and arches for Billy’s mouth. Billy wants him so badly, so badly. Billy needs this to be good for Dom, because he wants to see Dom arch and moan beneath him, around him. “This New Year’s Eve is certainly an improvement over last.”

Dom’s chest vibrates under Billy’s mouth as he lowers himself further. “I should hope so,” he chuckles. “I told you I was the missing ingredient.”

“I’ll never doubt you again,” Billy murmurs, licking across Dom’s stomach, grinning as Dom’s long, thin fingers suddenly twist into his hair. “Ticklish, love?”

“You know I am,” Dom gasps, trying to buck him off. 

“All right, all right, calm down.” Billy places an almost-chaste kiss on Dom’s navel and leaves him be. He lays his head sideways on Dom’s abdomen and rests there, waiting until he feels his body relax. “While I’m here...” Billy slides one hand down, wrapping his fingers around Dom’s erection.

“Oh... okay,” Dom says faintly from above. Billy smiles and works Dom’s cock slowly, with smooth, firm strokes. He watches his own hand and Dom’s full, lovely cock. The foreskin slides back immediately and Billy toys with it, pulling it up and over the sensitive head until Dom is so hard Billy no longer can. “Bill—”

“Okay.” Billy kisses the head and then sits up again. “Just going to play a bit,” he says, squirting a dollop of lotion into his palm. “Have you ever played here?” He runs one finger down Dom’s shaft, over his balls and perineum, over the tender pucker of his arsehole. “Had anyone else play with you?”

“...Yeah.” Dom is flushed, face nearly blank as he focuses on Billy’s finger, rubbing gentle circles. “I read this, this article online, about, y’know.” He closes his eyes and Billy looks back down; Dom’s prick is twitching slightly with his heartbeat.

“About what?” Billy smiles and leans to kiss the tight, taut head of Dom’s cock.

“Uh.” Dom shifts his legs wider and Billy takes the hint to slide his fingertip inward. “Uh. Um. Prostate... things. Sensations... ah.”

Billy wants to laugh, manages an inaudible chuckle. “Does this feel alright?”

“Mmm.” Dom inhales. “More. Yes.”

The room is nearly silent for the next moments, the only sounds those of their breath and the barely audible slide of Billy’s fingers, the shift of Dom’s limbs upon the mattress and the little gasps that fall from his lips. Dom’s body is so tight and hot around Billy’s fingers—first one and then two—slick and sweet, and Billy pushes every other idea out of his mind, concentrating on Dom’s breathing, the soft sounds he makes. The way his hand lifts and then lights upon Billy’s shoulder, his arm, curves around the nape of his neck. How his toes curl, the way his lips part and his eyes flutter open and then closed. Billy’s neglected cock throbs, and he makes some noise: desire, want. He closes his eyes and refocuses on how Dom feels.

“Bill,” Dom sighs. When Billy looks up, Dom’s eyes are open, and he meets Billy’s gaze fearlessly. “C’mon. M’ready.”

“You’re so—” Billy stops, swallows. Tries to smile. “So tight. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Please.” Dom’s voice is low and gravelly, rasping across Billy’s nerves like iron across flint, sparking him. 

“I’ll go slow,” Billy promises, and he lifts himself, moves up to lie beside Dom. “Turn on your side, like this—” he guides Dom until they are back to belly and Billy leans to kiss Dom’s neck, the curve of his jaw beneath his ear. “Lift your leg, up—like that, yeah.” Billy runs his hand down the inside of Dom’s thigh; fondles his balls and trails his fingers back. Another quick test—his two fingers slide inside Dom easily and Dom exhales quietly as he pulls them out.

“Billy.” His eyes are closed, body relaxed, and Billy positions himself. One more squirt of the slippery lotion—Billy bites his lips as he slathers it onto his cock—”Alright?”

“Please,” Dom says. He reaches back and places his hand on Billy’s hip.

Billy holds his breath; bends his head to watch as he presses slowly inward.

~*~

“Do you think they really...?”

“I don’t know. I thought Billy was straight.”

“I thought _Dom_ was straight.”

“Seriously? Elwood, don’t be so naive.”

“Shut up!”

“Well, come on. Have you _met_ Dom?”

“Fuck off. ...So do you think so?”

“I dunno. Wanna go upstairs and find out?”

“Ew! ...What room are they in?”

“Two down from mine and Viggo’s.”

~*~

Dom struggles to keep his breathing easy. He doesn’t want Billy to know that it hurts, but it does. He makes a small noise, shifting his upper leg—maybe that will give him more room— 

“Dom.” Billy’s sounds calm, slightly hoarse. “Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

“It’s just—” To his horror his voice comes out desperate, shaky. “Fuck. I just have to get used to it.” 

Billy pulls back immediately, the head of his cock (all that was inside) almost popping out of Dom. “It’s okay,” he says, mouth against Dom’s ear. “We don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Dom insists. He opens his eyes and turns his head to blink at Billy. “I do. Just keep going slow, I’ll get used to it.”

“I want you to _like_ it,” Billy says. His brow is furrowed; his face is pink and concerned. “I don’t mind if we don’t, or if you want to do me...” He kisses Dom’s cheek.

“Fuck that,” Dom says. He turns his head away and squeezes Billy’s hip, pulling him forward again. “Just use a lot of lotion, ‘kay?”

There’s a pause, then Billy kisses Dom’s neck again. “Okay. But tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I will,” Dom promises. He’s lying. Billy’s fingers feel good as he slicks more of the slippery lotion onto Dom’s arsehole, and the pressure of his cock isn’t quite as frightening—it hurt last time, but Dom knows what to expect, and he’s fractionally more relaxed when Billy pushes inside. 

“Oh, God,” Billy whispers. His forehead rests against Dom’s temple. His voice is enough to warm Dom, melt him a little, and Billy’s next nudge, further in, is easier. “Dom, it’s so hot,” Billy murmurs into Dom’s ear. “It’s so hot inside you.”

Dom’s cock, which has wilted a little with the strangeness and discomfort of it all, swells slightly. “More,” he rasps, releasing Billy’s hip and grasping his own prick. “Tell me more.” He squeezes.

Billy pauses, and the slow, slick stutter of his cock, pressing deeper, makes Dom groan and shiver. “You feel so good,” he says finally; he pulls back and Dom moans beneath his voice. “So tight, just—fuck.” Heat pours off his body, and his hand, which was between them, holding his cock as he entered Dom, has slid up to rest on Dom’s hip. “Like a furnace, Dom, and oh, God—” He tenses and rocks forward. “I want to make it so good for you...” A deep, shuddering sigh gusts across Dom’s neck. “Want to find that sweet spot.”

It doesn’t hurt anymore and Dom says so, breathes it: “Good, feels good...”

Billy’s fingers tighten on Dom’s hip and it’s Dom only warning—Billy thrusts, gentle but no longer tentative. Billy’s setting a rhythm, and each inward push and outward drag seems to wrench another noise from Dom’s throat—he can’t stop sounding, it’s just one long, low moan, sobbing higher or lower with the movement, with Billy’s cock, with the broken litany tumbling from his lips as he thrusts into Dom, slow and thick and controlled:

“Dom, oh God, Dom, so good, want this...” a pause, and his fingers slide down to twine with Dom’s and begin pumping Dom’s cock as he moves a little faster, “...little deeper, wanna make you—” a gasp and Dom arches, “—make you feel good, please, ah, wanna feel it,” Dom’s head falls back against Billy’s body, his backbone curves away from Billy as he hears, distantly, his own voice spiral up to a whole new level. “Wanna feel you come from it, Dom,” Billy growls as he shoves deeper, abruptly setting off fireworks, sparks shooting up Dom’s spine, through his fingers and toes and cock and Dom is just keening, now, harsh and uncontrolled, “there, there, there,” Billy chants as he thrusts, smooth and even, deep into Dom, so deep, piercing... something, inside him, and Dom wails as his body jerks and twists and just like that he’s coming, bucking forward so Billy nearly slides out, he’s nearly lost and Dom slams himself backward, still shouting, sobbing—Billy’s name among other things; inarticulate vowels and consonants tangle and bang around his throat as he comes and comes and comes, shuddering slowly to a halt with Billy still thick and hard within his body. Beneath his own voice Dom hears Billy, groaning; feels Billy’s fingers tighten convulsively on his sticky, still-heavy cock as Billy cries out and comes, shaking, mouth open against Dom’s neck and his hips jerking arrythmically into Dom’s arse.

“Ah, ah, _ah_ ,” Billy moans, higher each time, and he clutches Dom close, drawing him back, curling around him as he comes to rest, shivers juddering through him every few seconds. “Alright?” he asks eventually, winded and tender, and he kisses Dom’s nape.

Dom is better than alright, he think he may have achieved nirvana or a close imitation; he nods and mumbles something reasonably close to “Yes;” he knows Billy will understand. He closes his eyes and sighs so deeply it’s almost a yawn. When Billy’s softening cock slides (wetly, and it feels distinctly weird) out of him, Dom shifts backward, pressing himself against Billy. He doesn’t want him to leave or move just yet, and he knows Billy will understand that, as well.

~*~

“What’re you guys doing?”

“Sean!”

“Shit, man, don’t sneak up on us like that.”

“Why are you whispering? And what were you doing to Dom and Billy’s door?”

“...Nothing.”

“Are they in there? I haven’t seen them downstairs.”

“Oh, they’re in there.”

“Why do you guys look like that?”

“Like what?” “No reason!”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing, mate, seriously. We were just, uh, I mean...”

“I was just going to our room to get a CD.”

“...Sure you were. Move over—”

“No!”

“Don’t do that!”

“Ouch! Quit pushing me! I just want to check on Dom and Billy, what the hell is the matter with you both?!”

“C’mon, Seanie, let’s go. We’ll tell you about it in our room.”

“What did you guys do to them?”

~*~

Dom feels so good, hot and damp and solid in Billy’s arms, and Billy could fall asleep if he let himself. But he stays awake, even though his eyes are closed, and he hums against Dom’s neck after a while. “...Shower?” he says, and opens his eyes; he licks Dom’s nape, the short, bristly hairs salty with sweat.

“Fuhhhhngh,” Dom says, twitching and then seeming to mould himself closer against Billy. “Yeah.” He bends his head, offering his nape again, and Billy smiles and cranes his neck so he can close his teeth gently on either side of Dom’s spine and suck. Dom shudders and makes a noise that might be a moan, if he didn’t sound so sleepy.

“Can’t fall asleep yet,” Billy singsongs softly, releasing Dom’s skin, licking his lips. They tastes of salt, and Dom. “Haven’t got to midnight.”

“Are you sure?” Dom wriggles back against Billy, bottom massaging his exhausted prick. “We might have missed it.”

“I don’t think so,” Billy says. He props himself on one elbow to look at the bedside clock. “Eleven-fifteen. C’mon, let’s shower and go back to the party.”

“I want to stay up all night, see the sunrise,” Dom murmurs. “Though you might tire me out.”

Billy laughs, flopping down and kissing Dom’s shoulder. “I might try, at that.” He sighs, happier than he can remember being in a long time, and runs one hand down Dom’s side. “Not yet, though. Let’s go downstairs again.”

“Why?” Dom heaves himself up and over and wraps his arms and legs around Billy, wincing as he settles, butting his head under Billy’s chin and snuffling a bit, sounding content. “Ouch. My arse hurts.”

“You can do me next,” Billy says generously; his cock twitches at the thought, and he laughs silently at himself. “We have to go back down, just—please?” He cuddles Dom for a moment or three.

“Fine.” Dom sighs and Billy feels his kiss, feather-light against the hollow of his throat. “The others will ask why we’re in different clothes.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Billy says. He squeezes Dom. “It’ll be fine.”

“How will we tell them?” Billy can practically see the wicked, anticipatory curve of Dom’s lips. “I want us to tell them.”

“Me, too. I’ve got an idea about that,” Billy says. His nerves sing and he squashes Dom again happily. “Let’s shower, and when we get downstairs I’ll tell you about it.”

~*~

“Why did you guys change clothes?”

“What? C’mon, Dom, they’re about to start counting down.”

“Yeah—you alright there, Orli? You look like you’re about to choke.”

“I’m fine. Are you, uh, alright?”

“Better than ever, mate. Oof, Bill, what—”

“TEN. NINE. EIGHT.”

“Don’t look at them, look at me.”

“With pleasure.”

“SEVEN. SIX.”

“So, happy new year, Dom.”

“Happy new year, Bill. Love—”

“FIVE. FOUR.”

“—you.”

“I love you, too, Dom. Gonna kiss you, alright?”

“Of course, Bill. Yeah.”

“THREE. TWO. ONE.”

“Oh my God oh my God, they’re kissing!”

“That’s so great!”

“Wow, they—”

“Wow.”

“Um. Well, happy new year, guys...”

...

“Yeah, you too, Sean. ...Do you think they’ll stop anytime soon?”

“I don’t know.”

“Um.”

“Hmm.”

“Uhhh...”

...

...

“Mmmm.”

“Mm-hm. ...What’re you lot staring at?”

“Nothing, Billy. Dom. Just.”

“Happy—”

“Yeah.”

“—new year, yeah?”

“...That’s all.”

“Oh, well, alright then. Happy new year to you all, too.”

“Yep.”

...

“You wanna...?”

“Yeah, let’s go back upstairs.”

“So, see you in the morning, fellas.”

“G’night.”

“Happy new year!”


End file.
